


don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect

by thekaidonovskys



Series: After the Drift [9]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, M/M, Miscommunication, Scars, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because they could handle it if it were just one of them suffering, but in the face of both of their insecurities and fears, it’s too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted by Tumblr user thekaidonovskys
> 
> Important note: The original fic in which I developed the concept of Hermann having a past of self harm hasn't been transferred here as I'm not entirely happy with it. I've elaborated this fic a bit more to try and explain it a little, but just know that the past is there and it is still an ongoing issue - as you'll see in later stories in this verse.

Naturally they’re both insecure. 

It probably  _shouldn’t_ be so natural but considering they both had childhoods with no real friendships, threw themselves into work in place of relationships, and spent ten years holed up in a lab during a war, it makes a bit of sense that they might be a little hesitant about touch and closeness and feelings and all those things that come from a fledgling relationships. And it could all be dealt with easily. That is, if it is that. 

It isn’t. 

Because their minds are brilliant, beyond comparison and always doing what they want and in  _control_ ; but their bodies are flawed. And they can’t change it.

And it hurts them both.

In the first few weeks of post-Drift and post-apocalypse and switching labs and settling into a new relationship, it’s not really noticed. They overcome all the usual hurdles easily enough, learning boundaries and comfort zones and what’s liked and what isn’t and most of that’s in the bedroom where passion blurs vision anyway. Where touch that would otherwise cause one to flinch can be ignored. Where it’s easy to hide. 

When their relationship begins to bleed into everyday life, that’s when things get complicated. 

And they’ve Drifted, they should  _know_ , but they don’t. Because they’ve known one another for ten years and everything they’ve learned about their new relationship has only ever added to that understanding. But these things, these insecurities and fears and worries, these things are going to detract, to change opinions and understanding, and they’re really not prepared for it. 

It starts, surprisingly, with Newt. 

Newt is confident and loud and charismatic, always the most noticeable person in the room, always present and  _owning_  his presence. He belongs where he is and to  _who_ he is, everybody knows it, and nobody would dare tell him otherwise. And if he’s a bit chubby and has a lot of tattoos and his voice can get a little grating - well, who cares? That’s Newt, and you have to love him despite and because of all of those things. 

Simple, right?

Hermann, as one of those things that simply becomes habit early, usually puts his arms around Newt’s shoulders if they’re hugging or simply being close together. And it’s always worked well, never really been something to think about changing, but one day he does. He’s barely aware of it, but his arms find their way to Newt’s waist, resting gently on his sides.

And Newt goes entirely still.

It’s only for a second and then he’s chuckling, natural as anything, and shifting Hermann’s hands up to his shoulders. “That doesn’t feel right,” he says, voice casual. “I’m too used to it the other way.”

Hermann hums noncommittally and goes with it, but his mind is whirring. 

Later that night, when they’re lying in bed, Hermann gently ghosts his arm down Newt’s side. He just reaches his stomach when Newt once again captures his hand and draws it away. “Can’t sleep if you’re doing that,” he says, but this time there’s the barest hint of an undercurrent of tension as he laces their fingers together. “You can put your hands all over me tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

But Hermann knows he won’t, because he knows now there’s one place Newt won’t let him touch. And it worries him. 

 

Except he doesn’t have time for it to worry him, because he’s next in line - the next morning, in fact, when they’re on their way back from breakfast to the lab. Hermann has his cane in one hand, his other in Newt’s, as per normal, and they’re debating cheerfully when Newt’s hand slips from his grasp. But instead of falling away, he slides his hand up Hermann’s and to his wrist, wrapping thumb and forefinger around it and letting the palm of his hand rest against the lower half of Hermann’s forearm. 

Where his scars are.

Newt knows, of course. It’s not like Hermann could hide this part of himself - even if Newt hadn’t seen in the Drift, he would have seen Hermann’s arms the very first time they slept together. And so that night, the night they spent together in quiet talking and resolving what they had seen in one another’s minds, Hermann had quietly and carefully explained: how it wasn’t a _common_ occurrence, but still, sometimes, he got knocked down by the world (or by his father, more often than not) and it was just too hard to pick himself back up and that was when it happened, that was when he took the blade to himself so he could just cope, just for awhile.

Newt understood - distressingly, Hermann realized, he _actually_ understood. Not because of any self harming tendencies of his own, but because he had experienced the memories, had known everything Hermann was about to say before he said it. But he had been nothing short of kind and caring and hadn’t asked for any stupid promises from Hermann - instead, he had made his own. 

To be there. 

And he is there. He’s here now and what he’s doing is in no way judgemental or trying to draw attention to Hermann’s scars, Hermann _knows_ that, but his throat is still tight with panic as he feels skin resting against the part of himself he hates the most. 

Hermann, sadly, lacks the grace that Newt has for getting out of a situation like this. He immediately pulls his hand away, tucking it close to his body, and Newt frowns. “Hermann?”

“Hm?”

“What was that?”

Hermann shrugs and offers his hand again, this time making sure Newt’s hand stays in his. “You surprised me, is all,” he says, and his voice sounds natural to his ears. Hopefully it’s the same to Newt’s. 

Newt keeps frowning the rest of the way to the lab, though, and when they part ways to go to either side he doesn’t say a word, too engrossed in his own thoughts. Hermann’s part worried and part irritated - because it’s  _Newt_ that’s the concern, not himself, Newt’s the one pulling away from him for reasons unknown and Hermann’s reasons are obvious. 

He doesn’t dwell on it for long, though, work calling as it always does. By lunchtime, they’re back to normal, all incidents forgotten or at least pushed away as they walk hand-in-hand to lunch. Newt doesn’t shift his grip, and Hermann makes sure to put his arms around Newt’s neck when he comes across the room later for an impromptu hug. Fair’s fair, after all.

But of course it lingers in the back of their minds. 

And of course, as scientists, they both need to run tests.

By lunchtime the following day, they’re both near the end of their rope. Newt’s done the same trick of sliding his hand up Hermann’s wrist three times this morning, while Hermann’s ‘casually’ put his arm around Newt’s waist twice. They’re both simultaneously perplexed and frightened, and turn naturally to their only good outlet: anger.

“Want to tell me what the hell you’re playing at?” Newt demands. 

“Me? What about you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying the exact same thing all morning - at least my experiments have changed.”

“Oh right, so you admit you’re experimenting on me?”

“You are  _clearly_ doing the same, don’t try and take the moral high ground. I just can’t understand what you hope to achieve -“

“Well what do  _you_ hope to achieve, Hermann? Huh? Trying to make me so uncomfortable I don’t want to be around you anymore?”

“What on earth - of  _course_ I’m not! I’m trying to work out  _why_ you’re acting so irrational!”

“ _Irrational?_ You’re the one who does a full body jerk every time I try to get near your wrists, I mean  _that’s_ irrational if anything -“

“You  _know_ why that is, Newton, surely -“

“Oh,” Newt suddenly says, and he’s gone very quiet. Hermann stills, recognising the change and helplessly going with it as his anger evaporates in return. “You… your scars. That’s why -“

“Why else?”

“You’re insecure about them?”

“I don’t - well I certainly don’t  _like_ them. But this isn’t - what about  _you?_ Why are you -“

Newt looks down at his body and laughs self-deprecatingly. “Really? It’s kinda obvious, Hermann.”

Hermann can only go with the logical conclusion. “You’re insecure about your stomach?”

“Obviously.”

“It’s far from obvious, actually.”

Newt raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? It’s far more obvious than you and your arms.”

And the anger’s back. “Oh,  _really_?” Hermann mimics. “You honestly think that the fact I don’t like you touching the evidence of my self  _mutilation_ is  _worse_ than my wanting to touch your unmarred, natural skin?”

“You mean my  _fat_? Have you not thought that maybe I’m not  _proud_ of it? Just because you’re as skinny as a rake doesn’t mean we’re all that lucky -“

“I don’t see a single flaw in your body, Newton, but mine are all across my arms -“

“And mine’s right across my stomach -“

“But excess weight - which you  _do not have_ \- can be lost. My scars -“

“Can be hidden and dude, you think I haven’t  _tried_ shifting the weight? It’s not happening -“

“You think it’s just as easy as  _hiding them_  and it’s  _over_?”

“Well you  _can!_ But fucking hell, you shouldn’t  _have_ to!”

“And you shouldn’t have to lose a pound!”

They’re both torn between self-loathing and trying desperately to understand how the other can hate themselves that much, and for a moment they just stare. Then they’re both talking, trying to be heard over the other, trying to explain just how much the other shouldn’t change a thing while simultaneously declaring how much they themselves  _need_ to. And it’s too much, too powerful, years worth of insecurity and unhappiness mixed with so much concern that they just don’t know how to express properly, how to make the other understand that what they see is  _perfect._ Because they could handle it if it were just one of them suffering, but in the face of both of their insecurities and fears, it’s too much. 

Finally, in a torrent of fury and worry and  _pain_ , Hermann can’t bear it any longer. “If you could just  _see_  what I see, then -“

Then he stops, and for the first time the lab goes silent.

Because Newt’s just said the same thing.

And they’ve just had the same thought.

“The Drift,” Newt finally murmurs, and Hermann nods. 

As one, they leave the lab. They don’t touch, don’t speak, too afraid of breaking the stillness that at least carries no judgement (because they’re both so,  _so_ afraid that the other will suddenly realize and understand and not want them anymore), and simply head to the Drift labs. The last time they did this was for Newt’s mind, for when things went silent, but at least then they were on the same page. Now it seems that they’re at cross-purposes - though both are trying to achieve the same thing, they have to work against one another to get there. 

That always hurts. But hopefully this is going to be worth it. 

Newt swipes them in and, still silent, they each select a helmet and sit down across from one another. They keep their eyes locked as they put the helmets on, and Newt’s eyes are such a swirl of conflicting emotions that Hermann doesn’t know what to do apart from fix it. And he only prays he can actually do that. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

And they Drift. 

They fall through the memory connection in a matter of seconds, new memories of the past few weeks added to the ones they carry from the last Drift. Hermann pushes those aside for later - if at all, he’s experienced most of them himself anyway - and focuses on being in Newt’s head, as well as being in front of him. The duality takes some time to get used to, but Hermann adjusts fairly quickly. He’s seeing Newt, but also  _is_  Newt, Newt’s thoughts and emotions running rapidly through his mind. They’re all a little frantic and Hermann instinctively reaches out to soothe them, only to find that he’s equally as worried, which in turn only fuels Newt’s fear. 

Instead, he offers his hand, and Newt takes it. And that simple physical connection, even when contrasted with the extraordinary things their minds are doing, is enough to help settle them both. 

_show me,_ Hermann thinks. s _how me why you’re afraid._

And Newt does, but Hermann’s not ready. He gasps - mentally and aloud - as a barrage of self-loathing hits him and he sees 

_the sensation of squeezing skin between hands and wishing it away, the feeling of wanting to hide the first time he took his shirt off even though Hermann had been entirely transfixed on his tattoos anyway, the diets that never worked, the guilt of eating when he ‘shouldn’t’, frustration and anger and not being good enough, not for Hermann who’s so perfect and wonderful and worthy of so much more and his disgusting fat is just one obvious way of how imperfect and unfit he is of Hermann’s love and -_

Hermann breaks away. He doesn’t quite break the Drift, but it’s a near thing as he hides in the back of his mind, trembling. He’s crying, he knows that much, and he can still feel Newt’s mind wrapped around his own, can feel his worry and fear and how scared he is that he’s hurt Hermann or frightened him away, and that’s just not good enough. 

So Hermann takes a deep breath, prepares himself, and returns fully to the connection. Only this time he’s armed with 

_the way he looked at Newt the first time he took his shirt off, how every part of him seemed so perfect, how gentle and soft his skin is against Hermann’s fingertips, how Newt carries himself with such pride like he owns every part of the world he chooses to enter, how their bodies contrast with angles and edges against soft, welcoming skin, how comfortable Newt is to curl around and fall asleep with even when his leg is twanging and aching, how absolutely and utterly beautiful he is no matter what and how much Hermann loves him, all of him, all the time and always -_

Newt breaks it this time, and he’s crying too, but now the connection is alive with hope and wonder and _really? honestly? you’re not just -_

_can I give you anything but truth in here?_

He can’t, he knows. They both know that there’s no concealment in their minds, that everything Hermann’s thought and shown is completely true, and Newt has no choice but to believe it.

And when he does, it’s  _joy_ and  _relief_ and  _love love I love you so much_ that bubbles along the connection, filling Hermann’s mind with such happiness that all of his own worry and anxiety is melted away in Newt’s contentment. He smiles, knows his work is done, and prepares to break the Drift -

_oh no you don’t._

Newt sends the memory of Hermann flinching away, pulling his hand away, and suddenly all the happiness is sucked away, replaced by what Hermann knows is his pain. He tries to dull it, but in the face of what he knows Newt’s about to ask of him he can’t. 

_please?_ Newt thinks.  _please show me. please help me understand._

Hermann knows he has to, knows that if nothing else he at least owes Newt for being brave enough to show him. 

So he closes his eyes and thinks

_weakness and anger and pain and not the right kind of pain, the need, the craving, and even after it’s still not enough, the way he had to hide his arms constantly, the way nobody ever saw, never understood, the way it still hurts even with Newt and Newt loves him but how can he love this, how can anybody love somebody who can’t even care for themselves and -_

He feels Newt retreat in the same way he had, and Hermann forgets the self-hatred in a second in the face of worry - because he knows he needed a minute to take it in and figure out what to do to help, but this is different and maybe Newt isn’t happy to do that, maybe he’s going to break the Drift and walk away -

_no._ And Newt squeezes his hand hard, and, before Hermann can think of a reply

_the realisation, seeing through the Drift, the memories and the scars and later that night, Hermann being brave enough to show him and brave, that’s what he is, brave and strong and nobody should ever be allowed to hurt him especially not himself but he’s here, he’s alive, he’s proud to be himself and Newt’s proud of him, so proud, and the scars don’t matter the scars are part of him and as long as he’s here that’s all that matters and Newt loves every inch of him because it’s Hermann, his brave and incredible Hermann -_

Hermann snaps the Drift and they collapse into one another’s arms, too exhausted to do anything but let the tears fall silently. They stay there for a long time.

***

It’s not until three days later that they actually discuss it. 

“I guess there’s something a little more… possessive about it,” Newt admits. “It’s clingy, I know but you said it’s okay that I am.”

“More than okay.” Hermann looks down at Newt’s hand encircling his wrist and smiles. “I like it. Can you feel the… the scars?”

“Mm. A little. Does that bother you?”

“What do you think when you feel them?” Hermann asks, neatly evading the question for now.

Newt considers. “I just sort of remember, and it makes me remember to be grateful to have you here. Because I so easily couldn’t.”

They leave that unspoken, Hermann tightening his hold around Newt’s waist a little. “Then I’m okay with it. Bear with me if I flinch sometimes.”

“Will do, as long as you do the same for me. This isn’t - I mean, it’s not like you  _like_ it -“

“I like all of you,” Hermann corrects. “I like knowing that I have all of you and that I can touch you anywhere.”

Under other circumstances that would have led to Newt’s smirking and innuendo-laden reply, but this time he just nods. “And you don’t think I’m fat?”

“ _Certainly_ not. You are a biologist, you know that you simply have more adipose tissue, but not in excess. And that tissue is what protects you and keeps you warm and in turn, you keep me warm.”

“Yeah, because your hands are always freezing.” But Newt looks more relaxed, just like Hermann feels. “Now, any other insecurities I need to know about?”

Hermann considers, then, a little hesitantly, asks; “Do you really detest my wardrobe?”

Newt stares, then begins laughing. “Oh, babe,” he says after a moment. “I detest all clothes because they hide your body.”

Hermann can feel himself blushing. “Yes, well,” he stammers out. “But you - you did indicate that you particularly hated the sweaters.”

“Well yeah, because you dress like you’re  _sixty,_ not thirty-seven.”

“At least I dress with respect to my profession, not like a cross between a grad student and a…”

“Rockstar?” Hermann snorts and Newt grins. “I distinctly remember you complaining about my wardrobe the first time we met too,” he says. “It’s just one of those things we’ve got. But if it’s something that bothers you -“

“As long as you don’t truly want me to change, then no. And is there anything that still worries you?”

“Well see, I was all set to be insecure about my tattoos but you totally dig them so that’s not an issue at all.”

“I do  _not -_ I have the proper level of respect and admiration for your tattoos, Newton, I certainly do not…  _dig_ them. There is a large difference.”

Newt laughs and slings his arm around Hermann’s shoulders. “You so dig them, don't lie,” he says. “But nah, man, I think that’s about it. And… well after that Drift, I don’t think there’s anything I  _could_ think you’d hate.”

“Nor I.”

Hermann knows he’s smiling a bit stupidly at the memory of Newt’s love wrapped around every part of his mind and soul, but Newt’s doing the same and when he kisses him it’s at least one part possessiveness but the other two parts are complete love. 

And Hermann goes with it in the assurance that he is loved  _because_ of who he is, no exceptions.

**Author's Note:**

> It should be noted here that I don't actually subscribe to any of the beliefs these characters have about themselves. 
> 
> Title from "Fucking Perfect".


End file.
